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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847918">The Pull of You | holiday, interrupted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/espritneo/pseuds/espritneo'>espritneo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Implied Pre-Relationship, Urban Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:53:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/espritneo/pseuds/espritneo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Q's yacht explodes while on holiday in the Celtic Sea. In the subsequent weeks, while the police investigate the cause of the bombing, he searches for his mysterious savior.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Moneypenny &amp; Q, James Bond &amp; Q, Q &amp; R (James Bond)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Genuary 2021, Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the survival imperative</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the MI6 Cafe Anon prompt: He had thought jumping off the yacht was the only thing that could save them. But the ocean is vast and deep and it might have been better if they had died in the explosion.</p><p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkJediQueen">DarkJediQueen</a> for the alpha read (NOTE: this is not beta read) and to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelNDarkness">AngelNDarkness</a> for pointing out logical perpetrators.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The survival imperative, Q ruminated, isn’t always in your best interest.</p><p>Consider his current situation: treading water in the Celtic sea, using his rudimentary knowledge of cardinal directions to point his sinking body towards land. If he kept swimming east, his back towards the setting sun, then maybe at least his corpse could wash up in Europe. </p><p>Hard to miss, Europe.</p><p>Where was he? Oh yes, the animal mind’s automatic drive for self-preservation. And its penchant for making the wrong decisions. He didn’t consciously decide to throw himself off his yacht when it caught fire and exploded. His body did it for him. Frankly, he might have been better off burning to a crisp or carbon dioxide poisoning. </p><p>Instead, he was delaying the inevitable and contributing to his demise by using up his own energy. Terribly inefficient.</p><p>Water splashing his face made it up his nose and he coughed. He’d been swimming for god knew how many hours and he could barely keep his head above water. He wasn’t an experienced swimmer and he’d lost the ability to make strong strokes several miles back.</p><p>The ocean surged; a long shadow caught the corner of his eye. Q felt his heart race and he found the vigor to propel himself in the opposite direction. The shadow continued to circle, getting closer with every pass. Q fought to stay calm, to push his limbs to their fullest extension. If he didn’t panic and didn’t pose a threat, maybe the shark would go away.</p><p>PSA: It didn’t go away.</p><p>Q shrieked as scales (scales?) brushed his legs and blindly kicked out. Something wrapped around his lower body and he struggled, forgetting to inhale as he sank.</p><p>The world went dark.</p><p>—</p><p>He came to on a stretch of knobby rock. It was night, the stars gleaming sharp and bright pinpricks in the sky. The lack of light pollution had been one reason for his yacht holiday. He enjoyed many nights spent stargazing on his deck.</p><p>He sat up. There was movement, moonlight reflecting off a shattered iridescent surface, followed by a quiet splash.</p><p>But he was alone.</p><p>The rock was on a sandy strip, more of an eroded area than a beach. A stone path led north, into the dark with artificial lights in the distance. </p><p>The lights belonged to a seaside cottage and outlying buildings. Q knocked on the door.</p><p>A middle-aged woman answered the door, her face a bit alarmed at his appearance.</p><p>“I’ve been in an accident.” Q said apologetically. “I was southwest off Cornwall when my boat went down.”</p><p>“You’re lucky to be on land, then,” She hesitantly let him in, calling loudly for towels and assistance. “You could still be floating somewhere between here and France.”</p><p>“I don’t actually know how I survived.” Q nodded and introduced himself to a man his age and gratefully accepted a pile of towels. “I swam as long as I could, and I think there was even a shark! I fully expected to die, not wake up on dry land.”</p><p>“I’ll get you a change of clothes,” The man, Harry, disappeared upstairs. His wife, Nancy, ushered Q towards the toilet. </p><p>“Have a shower and I’ll fix us a cup of tea. Or would you rather scotch?”</p><p>“Tea is fine, thank you.” Q assured her.</p><p>A hot shower felt incredible on his taxed body. Q quickly warmed and dried himself. There was a shirt and joggers on the counter. Feeling somewhat human and less waterlogged cat, he joined his hosts in their kitchen.</p><p>“You’re on the Isles of Scilly,” Harry informed him. “On the southern tip. The chances of hitting land in the Celtic sea is rare. You’re very lucky.”</p><p>“I only attempted to swim east,” Q confessed, taking a sip of herbal tea. “My sense of direction isn’t the best outside the city. I rely heavily on instruments.”</p><p>“He said there was a shark,” Nancy said in an odd, pointed tone. “And he didn’t reach land on his own power.”</p><p>“Perhaps he met James, then,” Harry said jokingly.</p><p>“James? Who’s James?”</p><p>“James is a legend on these islands.” Nancy pushed a plate of sandwiches towards him. “He’s merfolk.”</p><p>Harry picked up the story. “No one over the age of ten ever sees James but we’ve all encountered him at one point in our lives. He hangs about the area. He probably considers it his territory. He’s a bit of an open secret, to keep the tourists from getting nosy.”</p><p>“A merman? Are you pulling my leg?”</p><p>Nancy smiled understandingly. “It’s just a possibility. Believe what you’d like, Mr. Q.”</p><p>“Oh no, please, just Q. It’s - it’s a nickname. Short for Quinn.”</p><p>“Do you have anyone you can call on the mainland?”</p><p>Q startled out of his musings. “Yes, if you have a phone I can borrow. I can call my assistant, Robin. She can arrange my travel home and compensate you for your trouble.”</p><p>Harry handed him a mobile with one hand and waved his offer off with the other. “I can’t have it, I’m afraid. But you could leave a gift for a fisherman diver on the shore. The more advanced the better, but best accompany it with a waterproof manual.”</p><p>Q awkwardly agreed to think about it and turned aside to call R. His assistant answered groggily.</p><p>“R? It’s Q. I’m sorry to call so late.”</p><p>“Q! Are you alright? Your GPS disappeared eight hours ago. Eve is tearing a new one into the marine support unit for finding your boat, but not you.”</p><p>“Extremely waterlogged and sore but otherwise unharmed,” Q assured. “I’ll contact Eve right now if you could arrange transport off the Isles of Scilly for me. I parted ways with the yacht in a hurry, so I’m without identification or funds.”</p><p>“Of course, Q. Do you have internet access?” Q conferred with his hosts and reported that yes, he could access his email. “Then I will email you tickets for tomorrow.”</p><p>“Thank you, R.”</p><p>“My pleasure, Q. I’m very glad you’re alive.”</p><p>Eve was similarly relieved to hear from him. Q promised to come by as soon as he was back in London, to touch base with his CEO and speak with the authorities. Eve couldn’t report him missing, but having an obliterated vessel in the vicinity of his last known location was enough to get the marine police involved.</p><p>The couple showed him to their spare bedroom. Q, now allowed to feel his exhaustion, was asleep before his head hit the pillow.</p><p>—</p><p>He is back in London by evening. Standing in his flat, it all seemed like a fever dream.</p><p>Until his new mobile vibrated on the kitchen counter.</p><p>“Hello? Quinn speaking.”</p><p>“Dr. Bakersfield, this is Inspector Wade with the West Cornwall Police. How are you, sir?”</p><p>“Relieved to be home, Inspector. How can I help?”</p><p>“I’d like to send a sergeant to London tomorrow, to take your statement. Is there a time you can meet?”</p><p>“I can be available tomorrow at Q-branch headquarters, 1400. Can your man or woman find their way?”</p><p>“Of course. We’ll see you then. And we’ll do what we can to help, Doctor.”</p><p>His water ordeal didn’t seem so far removed anymore. He settled in bed in his pyjamas and tea and lost himself in his thoughts.</p><p>That night, he dreamed of lying on the rock, coughing up sea water. The sun was a dying red glow on the horizon, blocked by a torso that was quite fit, quite damp, and when he looked up, belonged to a man with blue, blue eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. who is James?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Q returns to the Isles of Scilly while Eve keeps an eye on the investigation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, Q!” Eve happened to be out of her office when the elevator opened. His CEO looked emotional behind her carefully applied makeup. She hugged him tightly.</p><p>Q fiercely returned the embrace. “I’m truly glad to see you. I’ve come to steal you for lunch. We can order in if you’d like.”</p><p>Lunch was sushi, from a shop around the corner accustomed to Q-branch assistance requesting large orders to go.</p><p>“It’s better if we have some privacy,” Eve was saying as she opened her chirashi bowl. “Even if the view is a bit lacking.” She delicately took a bite of sashimi and rice. “Tell me what happened.”</p><p>Q recounted the entire story between bites of his dancing eel roll. How he had been floating in the Celtic sea, how he had heard an explosion in the bowels of the yacht. Fortunately, he was on the deck when it happened and next thing he knew, he had dived headfirst into the ocean with a mushroom cloud right behind him.</p><p>“And I somehow ended up on the Isles of Scilly.” He concluded. “What did the police discover?”</p><p>“They refused to file you as a missing person, so I <em>convinced</em> the marine support to pass by your last known coordinates. The wreckage hadn’t floated far. After that, it was easy to strong-arm the police into fast-tracking your case.</p><p>The boat was largely in pieces, and the hull sank to the bottom. But the divers were able to find evidence of a bomb blast.”</p><p>“Someone was trying to kill me? What for? Q-branch Enterprises specializes in assistive technology. Who on earth is threatened by bionic limbs?”</p><p>“I’ll be coordinating with the West Cornwall police and I’ll make sure they leave no stone unturned.” Eve promised. “You’re my dear friend, Q, and I’m quite invested in getting to the bottom of this.”</p><p>“Thank you, Eve. One of their sergeants is coming to take my statement this afternoon. I’ll send them your way before they leave.”</p><p>“Q, don’t come back to work early. You need to rest. You’ve been through an extraordinary ordeal.”</p><p>“Not to worry, Moneypenny. I have my own investigation. I’m buying another boat and returning to the island. I want to know how I ended up on that shore.”</p><p>—</p><p>While R negotiated with his insurance company and shopped for a new yacht, Q browsed for spearfishing equipment. Harry’s request was a bit barmy. And it only made sense in the context of his savior being either a) a passing fisherman or b) merfolk.</p><p>If it was a fisherman, did they rescue him after he lost consciousness? Why didn’t he notice their approach? Did they see the creature that attacked him?</p><p>But the part that made the least sense: why abandon him on an isolated shore?</p><p>The first step was to find clues. And make contact. He decided Harry’s request had some merit. A gift made a good overture.</p><p>The problem was, what do you purchase for a person you know nothing about?</p><p>—</p><p>Two days later found Q back on the southern tip of the isles, making a circuit of his route from the wreckage to Harry and Nancy’s shore - the drop zone, he’d begun to call it. So far, his search hadn’t turned up anything useful.</p><p>The waters over the wrecked yacht were undisturbed, flotsam having long since drifted away. Q wasn’t terribly interested in the wreckage except as a starting point. From there, he made widening passes eastward, trying to intercept anything he encountered during his hours long swim. Each time, he made sure to stop at the drop zone before returning to the wreckage.</p><p>He secured the yacht and jumped into the shallows, carrying a large duffel. He sat on his rock, the one he woke up on, and took out the most widely recommended speargun on the market.</p><p>
  
  
</p><p>He set the gun and a sealed waterproof baggie with the documents and the notes he took whilst comparing models next to him. He wondered if Harry <em>truly</em> thought his savior was a merperson.</p><p>“Who are you?” He ventured aloud. He said it in a whisper and it was quickly lost in the sea wind. Q shouldered his duffel and walked towards the cottage.</p><p>This time, Nancy was outside, tending to her flowers. She brightened at the sight of him. “You clean up very well, Q!” She greeted cheerfully. They bussed each other’s cheeks. “Come in for a cuppa? Oh and stay for dinner. I’ve a casserole in the oven.”</p><p>“I come bearing gifts.” Q grinned, setting his duffel next to his feet. Nancy put the kettle on and fixed a pot. Her expression softened when he produced two computer tablets. “Q, sweetheart, we’ve told you that’s not necessary.”</p><p>“I’m aware.” Q still waggled the boxes. “Consider yourselves my guinea pigs in return. These are prototypes with holographic user interface. I’m developing them for individuals with upper body disabilities. They don’t require capacative input on a flat display. And they can be voice controlled. I hope you’ll put them through rigorous, <em>extensive</em> testing.”</p><p>Nancy put her hands on her hips as if to call him out, but played along, “For the greater good, then. Thank you. These will be a help and a delight. Harry may have trouble going back to work!”</p><p>He did stay for dinner and as Nancy predicted, Harry was equally delighted with his present. Q had to talk about himself and explained that he’d started his own tech company a decade ago - Q-branch Enterprises - and ended up blushing when they recognized the brand. Apparently, his mother’s care home had several of their assistive devices.</p><p>“Well, at least now you know I’m not a dosser. And I can afford to treat friends every once in awhile, especially if they do kind things for a stranger.”</p><p>“So you live and work in London?” Nancy probed as she served them.</p><p>“London born and bred, I’m afraid,” Q said ruefully. “Hence, quite naive of danger outside the city and hopeless with navigation.”</p><p>“Speaking of danger,” he turned to Harry, who was pouring himself a glass of wine. “I left a present on the shore like you asked. A speargun, with all documentation for proper usage.”</p><p>Harry’s ruddy cheeks plumped up. “I think James will be pleased with it.”</p><p>“I still find it hard to believe it will go to its intended recipient.” Q crossed his arms and leaned over them. “Now tell me honestly, is James a hermit? A lone spearfisher that doesn’t like to show his face?”</p><p>“I would say yes to all that, but I know you don’t believe in merfolk.” Nancy shrugged. “Put it out of your mind, Q. You’ve repaid your thanks, you needn’t fuss over it anymore.</p><p>I met James when I was a child, though. I had fallen through soft soil into a cavern and hurt my foot. I must have been there for hours, but not so long that anyone was the wiser. James found me. I think he was much younger than you are now, Q. And I was a little slip of a thing. He carried me on his back all the way to port, where we knew the authorities would see me.”</p><p>“What did he look like?”</p><p>“A proper merman, I suppose.” Nancy said consideringly. “Fins, shiny scales below the waist that feel smooth and throw colours in the sun. Big shoulders, lanky like any lad, fair haired.”</p><p>“Any chance he’s wearing a prosthesis from the waist down?”</p><p>“If he is, he’s had it all his life.” Harry mused. “James sightings have gone back a good 30 or 40 years. Every islander has a James experience to tell.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A short, merry chase</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Scillionians may not have had any luck, but Q has a plan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His new friends encouraged him to stay the night, but Q declined. He wanted to go back to the boat and to the speargun before it disappeared. </p>
<p>The summer breeze was stifling and the sky was vast in its empty darkness. Q dozed on the deck in just his swim shorts.</p>
<p>He jolted awake to a raspy baritone in the wind. Like horsehair dragging over open G, it carried a lonely song under the sound of waves hitting the shore, the sides of his boat.</p>
<p>He lurched to his feet and stumbled to the starboard rail, peering into the darkness. He could vaguely make out a rocky outcrop in the distance. He recalled using that as a marker during the day. </p>
<p>Behind him, a loud splash in the direction of his rock. Q ran back and looked down.</p>
<p>The speargun was gone.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Q waited until morning. No matter that the speargun was gone, taken by James, an opportunist or animal. The gun had a tracker. And it showed the gun moving further and further away from land, zig zagging across the sea and finally circling the islands to roost at East Withan.</p>
<p>He cast anchor as close to the pile of rocks as he dared. It could barely be called an island. It was largely a stone formation rising out of the sea with an opening at the foot. The tracking dot indicated the spear was inside. </p>
<p>Q jumped into the sea and rode the tide inside. The opening was small, barely large enough for two men to fit through. But Q was skinny and the water carried him through into a tiny cave edged with stalagmites. The tide rushed out and the water level dropped below his waist. Q shone his headlamp 360. There was no sign of another human being. And a merman couldn’t hide under two feet of water. He consulted the gps. </p>
<p>The tracker was definitely in this cave.</p>
<p>He sloshed closer, approaching a shorter set of stalagmites, with flatter surfaces, until he was right on top of the signal.</p>
<p>The beam from his headlamp scanned his knees. And placed neatly on a stalagmite, was the tracker.</p>
<p><i>Oh, the cheek.</i> He thought, disgruntled. </p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Harry, when told, laughed at him uproariously.</p>
<p>Q didn’t find it quite so amusing. “I waited til morning, Harry. Who knows how long it was sitting there. Here I am, trying not to spook whoever it is I’m chasing and there’s no one to appreciate it.”</p>
<p>Harry gave him a placating pat and refilled his glass. “James is a wily one.” He tilted his head at his wife. “What was old Rupert’s story? The one about the oil prospectors?”</p>
<p>“He likes to tell that one, he does. It was the most exciting thing to happen to the Isles in at least five years, so he’ll tell that story until he dies.” Nancy rearranged herself on the armchair. “You can ask him about it. Rupert lives a five minute walk west. But because of Rupert, I’m not at all surprised he bested you today. He’s a slippery one, is James.”</p>
<p>Whether human or merfolk, recluse or urban legend, Q was starting to think of his savior as James in his head. James who cared about the islanders and guarded his privacy so fiercely he learned all sorts of trickery.</p>
<p>James didn’t sound too different from Q, really.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Before he paid Rupert a visit, Q sat on his rock and faced the sea.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I put the tracker on the gun. I don’t want you to hate it. I can’t help but be curious and that’s my problem. I want to meet you. I want to know how you found me, why you saved me, why you won’t let me see you. I think I remember you, sometimes. In my dreams. </p>
<p>I think I’m going insane.”</p>
<p>The wind cast his words in a wide net, farther than he could see.</p>
<p>Q took the path west.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Rupert was in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and disheveled whiskers. A pair of half-moon glasses perched on his thin nose.</p>
<p>“Hello, Rupert. Nancy suggested I pay you a call. I’ve had an unusual week and I’m looking for stories about James.”</p>
<p>“And what exactly’s she thinkin’ I can tell you?”</p>
<p>He spoke with a thick conjoining of consonants and vowels.</p>
<p>Q still glanced around, even though there wasn’t another soul in earshot. “Harry thinks James saved my life. I want to learn more about him. He pulled a clever one on me today.” He said with a half-smile and recounted his morning’s misadventure.</p>
<p>Like Harry before him, Rupert treated Q to an endless belly laugh. Finally, the older man eyed him consideringly and motioned him in.</p>
<p>“I’ve never met James, mind. But there’s no one else within an hour’s boat ride that could have caused that prospector’s boat to malfunction.”</p>
<p>Rupert wove a story of his younger years as councilman forced to allow an oil company to send their prospecting team a hundred miles west of the Isles. No one on the Isles approved of oil being lled so close to their home. They wrote for support, held rallies, and no one came to their aid.</p>
<p>After a week on the ocean, the prospectors returned angry. All of their instruments malfunctioned. Replacements were delivered and they cast off again. This time, they returned within three days. They could only replace the critical machines and with all of the errors and glitches, they had no way of creating a workaround.</p>
<p>None of the machines were damaged. They simply didn’t work, as if someone had gone into the system while they were in the water, out of sight, and tampered with the settings.</p>
<p>“And what makes you think it was James?”</p>
<p>“We didn’t realize for a few years. Then Bella, eight and angry at the time, ‘fessed up. ‘Twas her that tattled to James.” Rupert sighed with great satisfaction. “Still my favorite yarn to spin. Although yours comes a close third.”</p>
<p>“What’s the second?”</p>
<p>Rupert shook his head. “You’re not ready for that tale, lad.”</p>
<p>Or Rupert wasn’t ready to share it with a tourist stranger.</p>
<p>Q thanked him for his time and went back to his boat. He opened up his satellite connected laptop and browsed the internet for a suitable apology gift. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He had it shipped express to the post office at St. Agnes. </p>
<p>He then worked until his inbox was empty of requests that needed his signature and checked his watch before sending Eve a short text.</p>
<p>His laptop chimed that he had an incoming video call from Eve Moneypenny.</p>
<p>“Hallo, Moneypants,” he greeted warmly. “How fares the good inspectors of Cornwall?”</p>
<p>Eve sighed and stretched her back, signs that she had spent the day hunched over her desk as opposed to corporate meetings. “The divers have finished bringing your boat into the lab. They’ve retrieved as much of the floating debris as they could. The inspectors have been interviewing every port and mechanic that’s had access to your boat since you left London and cross checking their background with any company we’ve competed with on the financial sector. They may not have anything for months. Q, we should get you a body guard.”</p>
<p>Q made a face. “Or, I should stay far away from civilization until they find out who did it.”</p>
<p>“That is an option,” Eve allowed. “How are you going to survive without your workshop?”</p>
<p>“I could set up a small one here on the yacht.” He considered the boat’s layout. “R, if she’s willing, might have to make frequent trips to Cornwall. If not, we’ll have to discuss other options. I’ll need an occasional on-site assistant and projects need to travel back and forth.”</p>
<p>“I’ll leave R to you. You’re right that the Isles give you an anonymity you can’t enjoy on the mainland. How are things on your end with the investigation?”</p>
<p>“Nothing to report, I’m afraid,” Q lied, reluctant to share the Isle’s strange belief in merfolk. “I’m interviewing the villagers as I follow up the theory that I was rescued by a fishing boat.”</p>
<p>“If that were the case,” Eve pointed out, just as he had done in his own mind. “Then why dump you on a rock and disappear?”</p>
<p>Why, indeed?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bella</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Q meets Bella, who's extremely protective.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even with expedited shipping, the package would not arrive the next day and Q found himself at loss. He was back to square one, so to speak, with only a better understanding of James’ past experiences that did little to solve where, exactly, one finds a hermit/merman.</p><p>He remembered Rupert’s story about a girl. Bella. Bella had known James well enough to tell him town gossip. She had to have a hiding place. Or the knowledge that he needed: what James considered a proper hide-hole.</p><p>A bit of casual conversation at the grocer pointed him towards St. Mary, where Bella managed a bed and breakfast. Q shared this bit of news with the sea as he ate his brunch. Like yesterday, the wind said nothing in return and the waves swallowed his thoughts on Rupert, the prospectors, and his intent to find James.</p><p>Instead of dropping in unannounced, Q decided to ring the Rose Cottage. “Hello, my name is Quinn Bakersfield. I’m an acquaintance of several residents on St. Agnes - Harry and Nancy, in particular - and I’d like to speak to Bella about James.”</p><p>The person on the other end took their time replying. “This is Bella, but I don’t know a James. You have me confused with someone else.”</p><p>“I know about the oil prospectors that went away. Please, I have questions. I’ve tried to find him and he makes it impossible.”</p><p>“Perhaps your friend doesn’t wish to be found, Mr. Bakersfield.” </p><p>“I’d like to make an honest go of it. If I fail, at least I’ve tried. I think you’re my best shot at uncovering what kind of person he is. He must have boltholes all over the islands and I suspect you know where he likes to hide.”</p><p>“Mr. Bakersfield,” Bella began hotly and clicked her mouth shut. “I’m sorry I can’t help.” She hung up.</p><p>Q was very glad he’d opted to call. He spent the rest of the day in his workshop before mooring the shop at the drop zone for his customary dinner at Harry’s.</p><p>When he entered the cottage, he noticed the couple had guests. Rupert and a woman in her twenties with light brown hair and button nose. </p><p>“Are we having a party?” He joked nervously. “Shall I come back later?”</p><p>Nancy took his arm and sat him between her and her husband on the couch. “You’re the guest of honor!” She teased warmly. He unclenched a bit at her lack of concern. “Bella agreed to meet you, so I invited her to supper.”</p><p>“And I’m here cause I’m nosy.” Rupert chimed in.</p><p>Q extended a hand. “Hello, my friends call me Q. Our friends believe James rescued me several days ago and I’ve been asking about him ever since.”</p><p>Bella sighed. “Take me for a walk. Let’s see where you washed up.”</p><p>By unspoken agreement, their friends stayed behind. Bella was quiet as they picked their way along the path and stone until they were sitting on his rock.</p><p>“Rupert said you were good friends at eight.” Q carefully didn’t look at her. “Did it stop for you like all the others?”</p><p>“The last time I saw James was on my tenth birthday. I think his kind set out at that age, like proper adults. He’s certainly never acknowledged my birthday before then and his present was more of a rite of passage. He listened to stories of my birthday party, and then I never saw him again.”</p><p>“Did he tell you goodbye?”</p><p>Bella scoffed wetly. “James doesn’t speak.”</p><p>Q broke his staring contest with the sea, his eyebrows lifting high. “I heard singing two nights ago. When someone took my offering of a speargun.”</p><p>“Do you believe in those folktales of mermaids singing sailors to their deaths?” Bella asked acerbically. “That’s species-ist nonsense.”</p><p>Q snorted helplessly. “I find this entire conversation unbelievable.” He sobered. “So he’s never spoken to a single Scillionian? In thirty years?”</p><p>Bella shook her head in confirmation, or perhaps in disbelief, because her next words were, “But why would he sing to a stranger? We’re his territory. You’re an outsider.”</p><p>“I don’t believe in merfolk,” Q said abruptly, wanting transparency. “So, I can’t answer that question. But he was quite clever. I was properly distracted and that let James or whomever sneak away with the speargun. And they removed the tracker I put on it and led me on a merry chase ‘round the isles.”</p><p>“Serves you right for invading his privacy.” Bella said unsympathetically. “That was a rotten trick to pull.”</p><p> “I can’t tell you why it’s important that I try and speak to James. I’m having trouble explaining it to myself, beyond a desire to understand the facts. Whatever he is, he’s earning my respect.”</p><p>“You must be a lonely man, Mr. Bakersfield,” Bella mused. “To fixate on a phantom.”</p><p>“Was he? Lonely, I mean?”</p><p>“I think so. It was often hard to tell what he was thinking. He didn’t emote in the socially expected ways. But I think loneliness is a burden and yes, he looked like he carried that weight.”</p><p>Q tried to imagine this self-imposed hermit and utterly failed, his mind wanting to fill in facts. Such as occupation, daily routine, physical appearance.</p><p>“James: does he have blue eyes?” He directed his question at a cloud.</p><p>He felt Bella startle. For a long time, she didn’t speak. “Yes. At first, I couldn’t remember. I was so young. But I think yes, he had the most vivid blue eyes.”</p><p>Bella was more forthcoming with information after that, as if Q had either passed an unspoken test or cracked through the walls of time and brought her memories to the surface. They joined Harry, Nancy and Rupert for dinner and Q learned a few more pieces of James-related gossip that he tucked away as currently irrelevant.</p><p>At the end of the night, back on his yacht, Q mused aloud. “I haven’t given this boat a proper name yet. Shall I name her after you, James? You’re the reason I bought her and why I came down, although not why I stayed. It’s not safe for me back home. I hope you’ll put up with me a little while longer.”</p><p>Out of the darkness, he heard his mystery singer. The man’s voice reverberated in his bones, musical yet raspy, wrapping around him in a heavy embrace. Q squinted into the darkness and shouted, “Where are you?”</p><p>The tide crashed softly against the yacht.</p><p>“I’m right here!” He tried again. “Hello? Are you James? My name is Q!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hidehole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Q visits Bella's hidehole and spends quality time reconnecting with himself.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bella’s hidehole was an islet on the southern tip of Rushy Bay on the island of Bryher. James was usually the one to find her, but that was where she had often snuck away to hide. </p>
<p>There he found a hole in the rock, barely large enough for a grown man to fit through. It was a short drop for a 5’9 male although he wondered how 8-year-old Bella managed. </p>
<p>He found himself in a cavern 12 feet long, with stone floor separated from a deep pool by a raised edge. It looked man-made. </p>
<p>The walls told a story. They still bore traces of childish drawings and letters, older artwork covered by fresh lines. Q imagined a young girl telling her stories to a silent playmate. The scribblings continued on the ground, evolving into outlines of hopscotch and other children’s games. </p>
<p>He crouched and brushed his fingers over the abandoned toys. Grade school books were piled neatly on a flat rock. Everthing had a thick layer of dust. He felt a sudden surge of affection for this complete stranger and he wondered if loneliness drove James to seek out unprejudiced, uncomplicated friendships. </p>
<p>What was it about society that frightened him so?</p>
<p>At the edge of the pool, his headlamp bounced off a plastic bag. It was the manual and notes for the speargun, shuffled and tucked neatly within its waterproof bag. Careful inspection revealed evidence of being handled with sweaty fingers. On the ground, there was a small pile of books: trash novels people took to the beach. Q made a face at the cover illustrations. </p>
<p>These items were mostly dust-free, indicating the hidehole was still being used.</p>
<p>He pictured a boy, a lad, a man, reading on the edge of the pool, often alone, sometimes watching over a young girl. He then thought of his own method of passing time: sitting in his workshop, sometimes with R, but often alone, with only his inventions for company.</p>
<p>Unbidden, his mind merged the two together: him in his workshop, surrounded by his tech, and James reading quietly in the corner. </p>
<p>He laughed at his own foolishness.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>The next morning, he picked up his package at the St. Agnes post office. The knife was well balanced, crafted tip to tail from one piece of steel, with a wicked sharp blade. He set it on his rock and faced the gentle ocean current. The last 48 hours had gotten him no closer to solving the mystery. Instead, he heard stories about a man that was larger than life, incredibly kind and just as lonely as himself. A fiction of a human being, as if the Scillionians had peered into his cold heart and dragged out his deepest desires.</p>
<p>“I’m stopping now,” He called out, feeling foolish that he still felt compelled to talk to himself out in the open where any Scillionian can overhear. He gestured limply at the knife in its brand new elastic band sheath. “Consider this my apology, and my thanks for sharing your fishing waters.”</p>
<p>The newly named <em>Azure</em> spent the day bobbing aimlessly in open water, with its owner below deck. Q made the call to R that he’d put off for two days and made arrangements to ship certain equipment to St. Agnes. R was also agreeable to a modified and travel-heavy schedule for the forseeable future and having to kip on the yacht on an as-needed basis. She would use the company card for all travel-related expenses.</p>
<p>R caught him up on the progress of several on-going projects. Q-branch was on the early production stage of creating walking braces controlled by electrical impulses generated by the walking CPG. The braces were inert when inactive, but could be made malleable and fluid with the appropriate brain signals. The military was particularly interested in this technology and they were partially funded by government grant money.</p>
<p>They were also in the process to developing arms with the impulse-driven malleability but also with haptic feedback. They’d produced several prototypes with incremental success. The prototypes were all excellent at receiving only one or two types of input, but in reality, touch receptors encoded multiple variables. For touch alone, there was resistance, direction, and pressure, to say the least. On top of touch, they would have to layer on temperature for the basic models. If those were successful, Q planned to add pain sensitivity.</p>
<p>The tablet operating system was primarily Q’s to create. But the lab was systematically reviewing the holographic capabilities for several light sources in miniaturized form. R gave him a brief report on the first few options eliminated due to performance issues.</p>
<p>He fixed himself a late lunch of sandwiches and sat down at his laptop to work. He was so immersed in coding he failed to notice a long shadow cast through the portals, slowly gliding back and forth.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Over the course of a week, Q easily fell into a routine of work and more work, interrupted by the occasional food and sleep. He coded on the deck, under the shade, in the galley with its round portal windows looking into sun-kissed layers of blue. The weather was usually sunny, except when he was below deck.</p>
<p>He found that clouds frequently interrupted the sun’s path, lending long shadows on his screen and the opposite wall. </p>
<p>His equipment arrived in a timely manner and began spending part of the day holed up in his windowless workshop. He’d half expected to spend some time tinkering while on his extended ‘holiday’, so he’d asked R to ensure it was outfitted with appropriate heat-safe and well-grounded furniture. </p>
<p>It was a very relaxing, very productive holiday, all told. Especially now that he was focused on issues well within his purview and not chasing phantoms larger than life. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. face to face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which Q's solitude is interrupted by an unwanted visitor. if he shouts for help, will anyone hear?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moneypants looked good, Q thought absently as his friend’s face crystallized onscreen. She looked vibrant and healthy, and out of the corner of his eye, his own face, pale under his sunburn, stared back. </p>
<p>“Any progress with the police?”</p>
<p>“It took some time because  refilling and maintaining the boat leads to heavy foot traffic and they combed through the records and footage at each business. But, they have a good lead at your last fuel stop. Security cameras captured someone dressed in uniform but the company has no employment record. They ran his face through their databases and found a match.”</p>
<p>“So, I can come back to London?”</p>
<p>“Not yet, unless you’re willing to hire a fulltime bodyguard. They haven’t found your bomber yet.”</p>
<p>“At least it’s progress.”</p>
<p>“They’re also approaching it from a financial angle. Whomever planted the bomb was likely hired, especially if he has a known history, and he won’t have any information on who really wants you dead.” Eve’s eyes roamed the screen. “They’re focusing on other mid-cap companies in the medical and biotechnology sectors.”</p>
<p>“Fisher Inc had the best assistive devices on the market until we started commercial production.”</p>
<p>“I expect they’ll interview me soon enough once they have their suspects in order. I’ll continue to keep you posted.”</p>
<p>They made small talk for a few minutes more before ringing off. Q checked his watch. He had just enough time to get to Plymouth and meet R for a hand-off.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>R gave him a hug and a package wrapped in brown paper. “From the team. Mary made sweets and Nicholas bought your favorite tea.”</p>
<p>“I’m sending you back with my thanks, and this delightful bit of coding,” he handed her a portable hard drive. “You can test the holographic UI with the light sources that have passed the initial round of experiments.”</p>
<p>They had tea in the galley and shared the sweets, giving R time to get off her feet before she made the long trip back to London.</p>
<p>“Why are you really here, Q?” R folded her fingers on the table. “I don’t buy your reluctance to hire extra security. You practically live at the office and you have no social life. Moneypenny may not think of these things, but I am your assistant and I’m aware a bodyguard won’t change your routine.”</p>
<p>Q bit his lip and glanced out the porthole. “I was hoping to find out who saved my life. I spent the first four days searching for clues and interviewing the Scillionians. I didn’t uncover much. Just that there’s a hermit fisherman named James that lives on these islands.”</p>
<p>“If your investigation is over, why not return to London?”</p>
<p>“A…feeling, I suppose.” R’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline. “I can say I enjoy the time I’ve spent here, even whilst working at my usual pace, and perhaps that’s the reason I’m in no hurry to leave.”</p>
<p>R nodded briskly and tidied their dirty dishes onto the tray. They cleaned their mess in silence.</p>
<p>She gave him a fierce, but brief hug as she left. “Take care, Q.”</p>
<p>Q glanced at the cabin, where he could hear loud thumping. “Drive safely, R.” </p>
<p>He poked his head through the hatch and saw nothing amiss in any of the rooms. </p>
<p>He steered the Azure back to open water and cut the engine. He was jogging back below deck when a hand clamped over his mouth and something sharp pressed against his side.</p>
<p>Q froze.</p>
<p>“Walk forward,” his intruder commanded. Q was steered towards the back of the boat, into his workshop. He was summarily bound to a bolted-down table.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Q demanded, twisting his torso to see the man clearly.</p>
<p>He was dressed all in black, a knife in his left hand and a thigh holster on his right leg. </p>
<p>“I’m here to ensure you’re properly caught in the blast. My employer was quite upset that the police reports mentioned your interview.”</p>
<p>“Who hired you?”</p>
<p>The gunman was scouting the workshop. “Edward Niven.”</p>
<p>“Niven? The Chief Operating Officer of Fisher Inc?” Q parroted in disbelief. <br/> <br/>There was a crash in the direction of the bow. Q lurched before remembering he was tied to a steel table. The gunman was already moving down the corridor towards the hatch. </p>
<p>Q spotted his metal cutters further down the table. He climbed on the work surface and toed it closer, contorting his body until he could reach the handles with his bound hands. Shouts emerged above him. </p>
<p>Free, Q sprinted towards the hatch, retrieving his taser on the way. He followed the sounds of a struggle around the starboard side and encountered the gunman in hand-to-hand combat with a nearly naked stranger.</p>
<p>Their fighting styles were completely different. The intruder had a back-alley systema style; he kept trying to knock the other man off balance. The newcomer, had absolutely no finesse and pure aggression. His moves were reactive and unpredictable, which made it impossible for the gunman to pin him down. </p>
<p>Q realized that it was up to him to end the fight or risk the gunman taking the upper hand with his pistol. He struck him low with the taser, jolting him with 50 thousand volts. The man spasmed and crumpled to the deck. </p>
<p>The blond whirled and Q jerked forward, capturing a wrist. “Wait, you’re bleeding!”</p>
<p>The muscles under his fingers were tense. It was like gripping coiled steel. Q reflexively looked up and the warning in pale blue eyes stopped him cold.</p>
<p>He dropped his hand. The blonde tried to swing a leg over the railing, grimacing and cradling a six-inch gash on his right side. He was injured, Q realized in shock. They had been moving so quickly he hadn’t noticed, but the gunman’s knife had landed heavy wounds on the blonde’s side, thigh and neck.</p>
<p>“You’re hurt,” Q tried again, doing his best not to move, to appear nonthreatening. “Let me fix it. I have a suture kit below deck. You wouldn’t believe how many times it comes in handy after I cut myself on sharp edges.” He joked tentatively. The crumpled body on the floor caught his eye. “Then after, could I convince you to lend me a hand with him?”</p>
<p>The blond bared his teeth, but seemed reluctant to leave Q alone with the threat. He climbed down the railing with cautious movements, eyes flicking back and forth between Q and the unconscious gunman. Q quickly patted the gunman down, finding two pistols, the knife, a trigger, a mobile, and a wallet, the keys to the broken cuffs on his wrists. Q freed his wrists and rubbed the skin, thinking quickly. </p>
<p>He needed to call the police, to at least deliver the evidence, if not the bomber himself, and it needed to be a priority in case Niven grew suspicious. He also needed to treat his new ally’s injury. He looked up. “Are you James?”</p>
<p>The man - James - standing awkwardly but unselfconsciously in his undress, gave him a look of surprise. Confident, Q snagged his wrist again, not even thinking about the consequences. “You are! You’ve been a lot of trouble to find, sir. And you’ve saved me, twice. Thank you. Now,” He glanced at the body, “Actually, wait right there.”</p>
<p>He briskly cut a length of extra rope and trussed their captive. “Your turn,” He snagged James’ forearm and gently led the way down the stairs. James’ face was blank, but Q got the impression the other man was humoring his bossiness.</p>
<p>“Sit here,” He pointed at on the galley table. “That way I can reach and you won’t drip on the cushions.” He rummaged through the first aid supplies in the bathroom. “I have many, many questions for you, you know,” the nervous flood of words helped distract him from the bloody task of sewing James’ skin back together. “But all that will have to wait.” </p>
<p>Predictably, James didn’t utter a word. Q put on gloves and cleaned the affected area. Once he’d swabbed both skin and needle, he started drawing the half-moon suture needle through both sides of the wound. James’ skin was thicker than expected for skin, and took some strength to push the needle through. Q half-worried the needle would bend before he was finished and worked as slowly and carefully as he could. He chattered to James as he sewed, talking through his plans to deliver the bomber and the potential evidence to the police.</p>
<p>“I forgot about the bomb!” Q knotted the last stitch and covered the area with gauze and waterproof tape, sealing the edges tightly and firmly against the contours of his abdomen. He reluctantly assessed the thigh and neck injuries as not life threatening.</p>
<p>“Don’t move!” He absently ordered again, glancing up at James’ face. The man was staring at him with unblinking eyes. “Promise me.” He insisted, not deluding himself that James wasn’t capable of throwing himself off the side of the boat if he wanted to.</p>
<p>The other man moved his face extremely close, their cheeks brushing and gave a perfunctory nod. His proximity brought with it the scent of salt and kelp and Q, frozen in surprise, was aware of his entire head movement.</p>
<p>James gave him back his space immediately. Flustered, Q scurried to the back of the boat before his brain caught up with his body. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. the aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The case is finally wrapped up...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If he were a bomber, he’d place the explosive in a little used location close to the fuel tanks. Q ducked into the maintenance room and glanced around. Nothing was amiss at first glance. He weaved through the instruments and maze of pipes. Finally, he suspected he’d found it, enclosed in a cardboard box. He left it right where it was and dialed the inspector who performed his post-incident interview.</p><p>“West Cornwall BCU, Inspector Walsh speaking.”</p><p>“Hello, Inspector, this is Quinn Bakersfield, of the recent yacht bombing.” Q cleared his throat nervously. “I’d like to report another bomb on my new boat. And the bomber, who I left tied on the deck.”</p><p>The line grew noisier as he spoke, like Walsh was moving quickly with no regard for politeness. “What is your current location, Doctor?” </p><p>Q rattled off the longitude and latitude of his last known location. The Azure might have drifted a bit, but he was sure the marine unit would have no trouble finding her.</p><p>The inspector told him to stay on the line and they would find him within a half hour. Q carried the mobile back to the galley and set it on the table beside the first aid kid. </p><p>James watched his every move with a detached expression. He tapped at the phone with an air of suspicion.</p><p>Q creased his brows, perplexed. He’d already explained he wanted to contact the police. And James hadn’t shown any trouble understanding him so far…</p><p>James put a finger to his lips, expression set.</p><p>Q blinked, glanced at the phone, and on a hunch, copied James’ earlier move. Their cheeks brushed and he spoke lowly. “Do you not want to be heard or seen?”</p><p>The blonde gave a curt nod.</p><p>“Very well. They’ll be here in less than thirty minutes. I’ll stitch your leg and neck and you’ll have to hide in my panic room. I can bar their entry.”</p><p>Q opted to stay below deck until the police arrived. Dealing with the well-meaning inspectors and sergeants of Cornwall BCU took up the rest of his afternoon and nearly all his patience. Two separate officers took his statement. Thankfully, the bomber was exactly where he had left him, albeit conscious. He surrendered all the evidence he found in the man’s pockets and found some satisfaction when they looked excited to have a mobile to mine for data.</p><p>Everyone wanted to know where his defender had gone. Q couldn’t hide the fact that the bomber had been in a physical altercation and modified the story to pretend James had escaped. He truthfully confirmed he had never seen the man before. Q claimed he had been injured and disappeared when he went below deck for a first aid kit.</p><p>The moment he was free, he called Eve and got her up to speed on the day’s events. He texted R as they chatted just to confirm his assistant made it back to London unharmed.</p><p>“You’ll send me to an early grave, Q. How did they even know where to find you?”</p><p>Q shrugged, unseen, and just said placatingly. “I’m sure the police will find out, Moneypants. The important thing is that the investigation is over, don’t you think? The bomber got himself captured, they have my statement that Niven is involved, and while that’s circumstantial, I hope that the police will find a defensible tie using either the mobile or the bomber’s financial accounts. If we’re lucky, he might even confess.”</p><p>Moneypenny sighed and changed the subject. “You’ll be coming back today, then?”</p><p>Q hummed, hedging. “It’s late, Eve. How about I start on Monday. That’s four days from now. I’ll tie up a few loose ends and take my time sailing back to London.”</p><p>“Your insistence you stay on holiday is quite uncharacteristic,” Eve said pointedly. “Have you met someone down there, Q?”</p><p>Q laughed, relieved Eve went straight for a mundane explanation. “No, Moneypants, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t found any arms to swoon into.”</p><p>As he thought, the sun was setting by the time the marine unit left. Q promised to call if he had any more information.</p><p>He waited until the cruiser’s lights could no longer be seen. Then he ran to the panic room and opened the door. James bowled him over and swept him along with an iron grip on his upper arm. The blonde’s face was strained under his tan, pupils wild and dilated.</p><p>He released Q once they were out in the open air, ignoring him and making a beeline for the railing. Q tried to grab him by the back of his shorts, but his fingers just slipped over the smooth, iridescent material.</p><p>James jolted and jerked sideways, anyways, his escape attempt forgotten. His hands found Q’s and he spread their arms wide, his face radiating practiced disapproval.</p><p>“Sorry!” Q found himself apologizing. “I thought - I thought you were going to jump again.”<br/>
 <br/>
James’ jaw tensed mutinously.</p><p>“Listen. James. I still want to know how you got here considering I’m in the middle of the ocean and I don’t see your boat nearby. But importantly, you’re injured and you don’t have a way back to shore. So stay awhile, just until you get better, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”</p><p>Those blue eyes scrutinized his face. Q gestured grandly at his injured leg, eyebrows raised, daring to question the other man’s common sense.</p><p>Their arms still stretched out at shoulder height, James closed in until they were chest to chest, one bare foot between Q’s, their cheeks pressed.</p><p>And nodded with a quick, reassuring nuzzle, before stepping back and dropping their hands.</p><p>Q was certain his face was on fire and he cleared his throat and spun around to face the hatch. “Right. Good. Let’s eat.” </p><p>Dinner was an…interesting experience. He made them something simple: steak and potatoes. James carefully watched him eat for a few minutes before deftly handling his own silverware. But the blonde couldn’t hide his reaction to his first bite. </p><p>“Do you want something else?” Q asked, worriedly, feeling guilt that he hadn’t considered his guest. It seemed obvious now that he was faced with the problem. What did a hermit fisherman eat? </p><p>Fish, most likely.</p><p>But James took his hand and obstinately shook his head against Q’s fingers. </p><p>It was the most hilarious and adorably confusing thing Q had ever witnessed. James didn’t seem to be repulsed by the meat. But his face reflexively made microexpressions of bewilderment and discomfort as he ate.</p><p>Q tried very hard not to laugh, but he had the uncomfortable feeling James saw right through him.</p><p>It was much easier to table his curiosity for a more appropriate time. </p><p>—</p><p>Q was surprised when James failed to disappear the first night. The man had to know he couldn’t get away with their weird polite standoff forever. Sooner rather than later, Q had to comment on James’ strange behavior. </p><p>But he was there in the morning, when Q emerged from his cabin and knocked on the guest quarters, first aid kit in hand. He heard a muffled inquisitive sound and opened the door. James was still in bed, lying flat on his back on top of the covers with this hands on his chest.</p><p>Q wondered if the bed was that uncomfortable.</p><p>James’ head popped up before the door was fully open, looking wide awake.</p><p>“Did you sleep at all?” Q frowned. He took in the man’s injuries and state of undress a bit more carefully than last night. “Let’s get you a change of clothes. I’m not sure my things will fit well, but it’s better than that wetsuit.” </p><p>James was struggling out of bed and he laid a hand on his calf, then his unwounded side when the blonde ignored him. “Let me take a look at your stitches. Then I’ll make us a cup of coffee and toast.” </p><p>The stitches were a healthy pink, with a negligible amount of blood. Q cleaned, disinfected, and rewrapped them all and fetched James his loosest pair of joggers and T-shirt. </p><p>And endured the blank, uncomprehending look on James’ face. In the back of Q’s brain, Harry’s voice whispered, merfolk. He stubbornly dismissed it and shook the pile at the blonde’s face. “You can’t parade around in a pair of shorts.” James turned his attention to his tight-fitting wetsuit and the distinct air of confusion around him intensified. “I insist.” Q finally said, forcing James’ head through the shirt hole and wrestling his arms through. “Change into those joggers,” he nodded at the fabric. “And give me the shorts to wash.”</p><p>He left to give James some privacy and started the coffee machine. He had poured coffee and a plate of toast by the time James emerged from the cabin, still wearing an air of befuddlement. Mindful of his injuries, Q nevertheless crowded him into sitting down and, after taking a bite out of toast, put another in his hand. “Shorts?” He put a hand out imperiously. James’ affect took on an edge of amusement, his blue eyes dancing. He pulled the elastic band out to expose the wetsuit underneath. </p><p>Q rolled his eyes and, not thinking, tried to slip his fingers between the suit and skin.</p><p>Only, there wasn’t a seam. Q snapped his head up in disbelief. James just stared back, radiating bemusement. Now using both hands, his fingers traced the edge of the iridescent material. There was a line of demarcation right where flesh met slippery smoothness but even though the texture was different, all signs pointed to the smooth -</p><p><em>Scales</em>, his mind whispered in Nancy’s voice. <em>shiny scales below the waist that feel smooth and throw colours in the sun</em>. </p><p>- material being part of James’ skin.</p><p>Q leaped back, throwing his hands behind his back, mortified. He’d been feeling James up all morning. And last night! James’ reaction suddenly made complete sense.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>“You’ve been naked this entire time?!”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. All good things.....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Last time, James agreed to stay on the yacht. And Q discovered he really needed clothes.....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 8</p><p>“So, you’re not human.” Q said plainly. “And yet you decided to show yourself to me.” James was slow to respond, his eyes wary. But he seemed to come to a decision and nodded against Q’s fingers. “Are you merfolk?”</p><p>Another nod. “Harry thinks you saved my life. Are we right? It was you that kept me from drowning.”</p><p>James seemed distressed, but nodded. Their heads drifted together, drawn in by an inexorable pull and the tension bled out of James’ shoulders as they made skin to skin contact.</p><p>“James, this is the last burning question…if you’re merfolk, where’s your tail?”</p><p>To his shock, James cleared his throat and spoke without moving his mouth. His speech was echoey and somewhat muffled. “We can transition from fin-tail to two-tailed at any time, but it’s not a good idea when I’m injured.”</p><p>Q touched his ears in shock. “Are you talking in my head?”</p><p>“No,” Idiot, was implied in James’ dancing eyes. “This is how we produce sound, on land and underwater.”</p><p>Embarrassed that he’d gone for the farfetched explanation, Q ducked his head, only to have James guide it onto his shoulder. James’ muffled voice, which was resonating through a closed space, suddenly made sense.</p><p>“You’re so handsy,” Q half-complained, curling his fingers in James’ shirt.</p><p>“You started it by grabbing my wrist and being bossy. Merfolk communicate with sound, olfaction, and pressure. Air just doesn’t have the same effect as water.”</p><p>“So, touch.”</p><p>James lifted Q’s hand to his face and nodded against it. “Skin on skin contact is an acceptable substitute for pressure. It feels right. I’m not used to the human way of communicating and it’s reassuring to have normal feedback.”</p><p>“But the children - ”</p><p>James pressed his very human shrug against Q’s chest. “Children are easy going and more interested in themselves than an abnormality in their very nonhuman friend.”</p><p>“How did you know I was in trouble yesterday?” Q suddenly asked, remembering Bella said James always found her.</p><p>“I didn’t,” James shook his head, hair brushing over Q’s forehead. “I was just nearby when he snuck onto your boat via the platform. I tried to scare him off without being seen, but you responded instead.”</p><p>“You were the thumping!” Q realized. “He could have seen your other form,” he half-scolded, terror washing over him.</p><p>James’ hands tightened protectively, a threat rising in the air. “It’s all worth it if you don’t die.”<br/>_</p><p>Q learned quite a few things over the next two days. Firstly, James was not a fan of grains. He enjoyed the coffee undoctored, but pointedly ignored the toast after taking one bite. During lunch, rice received the exact same treatment. Fish, even cooked, was positively received. After that, all their meals involved frozen fish and greens, which James seemed to recognize as edible even if he was often surprised by the flavor.</p><p>Secondly, merfolk were both hyperaware of personal space, and completely disregarded it in purposeful ways. James was always conscious of his proximity to Q and all objects around him. Q’s research attributed it to a sensory organ similar to schoolfish. His lateral sense was muddier out of the water, which James seemed to find frustrating, and often led to sluggish reaction times and bumping into things when he relied on it more than his visual sense.</p><p>It was funny except when James deliberately invaded his space to talk. He’d protested the first few times - not stringently, mind - and James was terribly unselfconscious about it. Apparently, it was normal behavior for merfolk to mix all the ways they could communicate, especially if they were part of each other’s inner circles.</p><p>“And how do you know we’re friendly enough?” Q had asked acerbically, pushing one broad shoulder. James had easily gone with the motion, spinning them in a half-circle in the confined space. </p><p>“The way you smell,” was his cryptic reply. “And you’ve been spot on reading my feelings, so I know you can smell mine, too.”</p><p>Thirdly, James did not appreciate clothing. He thought he should have expected that, given James wasn’t human, nor raised human, and merfolk apparently had no use for covering up all their bits when scales did a perfectly fine job tucking them out of sight.</p><p>He’d endured the human fabric when Q was none the wiser, but ever since their conversation, James shucked it all off and refused to put on another stitch, even when Q begged him to respect his human sensibilities.</p><p>On the whole, James was an unobtrusive presence on the boat. He greatly appreciated the collection of books Q had brought and while he followed Q wherever the human went, he stayed out of the way while Q worked. Outside of work, Q suffered from his idiosyncracies but also made James suffer through his endless questions.</p><p>The questions Q was afraid to ask were, where’s your family? What is this pull that draws me to you?</p><p>He told himself it was out of respect; James’ private life was none of his business and he could analyze his own atypical reactions later. Back in London, where no one touched him and he sought no one’s company.</p><p>He ignored the self-awareness that he had a burning desire to know. </p><p>James healed quickly and by the third day, he was ready to leave and Q was painfully aware he had less than 48 hours to resettle in London. </p><p>James spent the day quiet and acting torn, his attention split between testing the waters around the yacht and wrapping himself around Q, wordlessly telling him things that Q couldn’t parse and didn’t quite have the heart to get upset about.</p><p>Ultimately, they couldn’t put it off forever. James sensed a storm coming and Q needed to get the yacht to the eastern side of the mainland before the crossing turned treacherous.</p><p>James scaled the ladder down to the platform. Q sat on the ladder and didn’t follow. The platform was barely large enough for two men standing side by side. He watched as the other man eased himself into the sea.</p><p>All in all, it was incredibly anticlimactic. One moment to the next, James’ head and shoulders bobbed in the current. He eventually pushed off and they stared at each other, drifting, the waves widening the gap inch by inch. </p><p>Q found himself lurching off the ladder before he caught himself, one foot on the rung.</p><p>James gave him a very human wave, then flicked his tail and disappeared.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>He’d thought being back in London would stir an emotional reaction. After the bombing, he’d felt both relief and discomfort, like he knew his life had been irrevocably changed without his permission. And truthfully, he’d run away from that feeling, going back to the Isles of Scilly to chase a mystery instead of facing life as a victim.</p><p>But now, as he stood in his flat, it was just another day. If not for all the luggage sitting in his hallway, waiting to be unpacked, he could even pretend he’d just returned from the office.</p><p>He naturally fell back into his old routine: dinner over the sink, a long soak in a proper sized tub with his favorite records playing in the background, tea and sleep.</p><p>Q-branch was relieved to have him back at work. They all did their jobs admirably in his absence, and R gave him capable reports, so there were no projects that required a detailed review. Nevertheless, his office had a steady flow of minions interested in catching up, in picking his brain, demonstrating just how much they valued him as more than their executive manager.</p><p>Eve stole him for lunch his first week back to update him on the police investigation. A strong case had been built up against Edward Niven and his bomber, Jack Wade. Niven had been arrested and was waiting, the trial date set in the fall. He would be asked to testify, but their lawyers were confident there was sufficient evidence to guarantee prosecution.</p><p>His life was back to normal and in its everyday rhythm, Q grew discontent. It was a slow transition, the emergence of holes in his quiet hours, an increasing sensitivity that had him reaching for jumpers in summer just to have sensation on his bare skin. He felt a novel, quiet longing for fewer clouds and salt in the air. He found himself looking for companionship in his workshop.</p><p>So, one day, Eve opened her inbox and found an email marked urgent.</p><p>It was from Q: a modified letter of resignation that reduced his duties to engineering advisor and recommended R as his replacement.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Epilogue</p><p>Q stood on the deck of the Azure, face upturned in a rare patch of fall sunshine. The Isles of Scilly were as miserable as London now that summer had properly gone. He was glad he’d packed his normal wardrobe. But truly, although the weather was dismal 90 percent of the time, there was nowhere else he’d rather be than on this boat.</p><p>Behind him, close to the bow, Harry and Nancy admired a pod of curious dolphins in the distance, showing Eve the spectacle using their tablets. They were out on the boat to celebrate a successful trial. Eve couldn’t leave London, but was happy to participate remotely.</p><p>Q, on the other hand, was on the platform, waiting hopefully for his final guest. Beside him sat a neatly folded stack of clothing. The lights were dimmed in the back of the boat and his friends politely kept their distance, giving him the illusion of privacy. </p><p>James emerged from the water, one hand already extended and a warm smile in his eyes. </p><p>“You came back.” He greeted, not hiding the sound or scent of joy.</p><p>Q smiled back at this face he’d grown so fond of in such a short time, and so inexplicably, like the emotion had been growing inside all his life, waiting for James to pull the trigger.</p><p>He grasped James’ hand and said honestly, “How could I not? I was drawn to the pull of you.”</p><p>End</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm on tumblr all the time lol. Come say hi! <a href="https://thatsuittho.tumblr.com/">Thatsuittho</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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